The Warden's Duty
by multifandomhaven
Summary: The North was starving, Dorne had the resources to help them survive the long winter. Jon Snow (Targaryen) x OC
1. Chapter 1

**This story was requested by _sehunted_ on Tumblr. **

**I am very excited to see where this story will go! Let me know what you think so far!**

 **Happy reading x**

* * *

The Warden of the North, Jon Targaryen of Winterfell and his cousin Sansa, his second in command, were at their wit's end.

Winter had come. The dead had been put to rest after many battles and lives lost. Cersei no longer ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and only one Lannister, the Imp, remained.

The rightful Queen had taken the throne, and after so many years of being ruled by the Lannisters, the people of Westeros flocked to her like flies to a rotten carcass.

Once Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne she had bestowed Jon with the last name he was born to have - he was a Targaryen. She awarded him with the North, vowing that as long as there were Starks or Targaryens living they shall rule as the Wardens in the North.

There was peace in the kingdoms. But there was also hunger.

* * *

The crops had started to die long ago, and now the only thing left in the North were the frozen remnants of what had once been.

The deer and wildcats that once roamed the woods had been hunted to near extinction. There were a few bears left in the woods, but not enough to feed the people behind Winterfell's gates.

Once respectable nobles that dwelled behind the walls had turned to beggars. They began to grow scared, some even went mad with hunger and rage, taking their own lives and the lives of those they loved, for a death by blade was better than being taken by hunger.

Sansa Stark ached for the people in their care, she really did, but there was nothing more she could do.

Their supplies were running dangerously low and the Vale had ceased their supply food and furs because they were beginning to run low as well.

Jon and Sansa knew they couldn't ask the Queen for her help just yet, she'd only reclaimed her homeland a few moons back and was in no position to hand out anything beyond the capital's walls.

This long, cold winter had taken it's toll on everyone.

The sound of a child's whimpering brought Sansa back to the throne room of Winterfell.

The father that kneeled before her broke her heart, his and his children's faces so near to the ground she was sure they'd freeze to it. They were begging for any food she could spare.

"Please, my lady," the man whispered, his hands shaking beside his head on the ground. "My children are starving. We 'ave no more grains. The wildlife in the woods has been thinned to near nothin'. We're living on borrowed time."

Sansa looked to Jon, her eyes pleading with him. ' _Help me_ ,' she'd mouthed to him.

Jon sighed heavily, but stepped forward nonetheless, willing to bear the burden of becoming Warden in the North.

"I have only enough to get everyone through the next few weeks. I offer you my sincerest apologies, but there's nothing more we can do."

The man's eyes darkened. He was angry, that much Sansa knew. She'd seen the same look in Joffrey's eyes many times during her stay in King's Landing.

"Your apologies won't feed my children," the man nearly growled. "I'm willing to bet my life when everyone else's bellies 'ave been emptied for days you'll still be enjoying your secret feasts in your chambers, my Lord and Lady."

Jon inhaled a breath deeply through his nose to calm himself, but his voice still came out louder than intended. "There will be no food in my belly before I feed the children, you can bet your life on _that_." Jon turned to move back to his place beside his sister.

The man jumped up from the ground and dove forward, his hand hidden somewhere deep in the folds of his robes. He pulled out a long dagger and came at Jon's back, his eyes wild.

Sansa gasped and stood quickly from her chair. "Jon, look out!"

Jon turned and caught the man's wrist. He took three large strides forward to pin him to the wall. The man was weak, Jon could tell by how little fight he had in him. "Do not make me kill you in front of your children," Jon begged.

"Do it," the man's eyes watered. "Take away the hunger. The shame."

"Coward." Jon sneered at him. "You'd rather die than live to feed your children."

"There's no food, bastard." Jon guessed it was still true, since his mother and father hadn't been wed. It was something to rile him, he knew, so he pushed it aside. "What do you suppose I'll feed them?"

"You've tried to murder me, so your wish will be granted. You will die, and your children will live on without their father." Jon pressed his forearm against the man's throat harder. "But this I promise you, I will not let my people die."

"Guards!" Sansa ordered from the corner of the room. The men standing by the door, their hands on their swords said nothing as they watched the exchange. "Take him to the dungeons."

Jon watched the man, his heart overflowed with sorrow as he was dragged away from his children.

"Get him some bread. He may have attacked me, but he doesn't deserve to die on an empty stomach."

The guards nodded, but kept their grips like iron on the man's arms. His children were taken into a spare room in the castle where the orphans stayed.

"And his children, get them something to eat."

* * *

In the conference chamber later that night Jon barely touched his plate. He picked at a piece of bread given to him and had ordered his guard to take the soup to the madman's children.

"We have to do something," Sansa whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "If we don't there's going to be more attacks like today. People are desperate, Jon."

Jon sighed. "Aye."

"That poor man," Sansa whispered. "His poor children."

Jon pushed his bread aside. Hunger was no longer the only feeling that plagued him. "Are there no more houses that we can barter with?"

"We have nothing to barter," Sansa said quietly. "We're out of everything."

Jon nodded, taking off his sword belt. He stood, ready to tuck into his warm furs for the night. He stopped behind Sansa and bent to give her shoulders a firm squeeze of reassurance. "We'll think of something, Sansa. Get some sleep, try not to worry yourself into an early grave."

* * *

Sansa awoke the next morning and rushed to her nightstand. She knew what she had to do.

She quickly dipped the quill into the ink pot and brought it back out, splattering the blackness onto the wood she leaned against. She paid it no mind as she scribbled words onto the parchment, her writing fast but legible.

It was perfect, she nearly cried as she reread the terms.

She knew there was something to be done! Some place in Westeros not hit as hard as they had been by the winter. There was one thing left to barter with - the joining of their house.

Jon may not take to the idea at first, Sansa knew, but it was for the people, and for them Jon would do anything.

That morning a raven was sent to Dorne.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter two! I've been researching Dornish culture and this is what I've come up with. Also, I spent most of my time with this chapter trying to figure out how long it would take for Laien to arrive in Winterfell and with a rough measure of a few of Westerosi maps I came up with 2.5 months. (From what I've read it took King Robert and Cersei a month to get from King's Landing to Winterfell, so I just went with it.**

 **So, let me know what you think, lovies!**

 ****Lhars pronounced Lars - Laien pronounced Lay-yen.**

* * *

Laien had never been so tired in all her life. Her arms were sore from holding the reins of her horse for so long, her legs were sore from disuse, her bottom and legs were so so she nearly cried with every stamp of her Sand Steed's hooves. This was a good arrangement, she had reminded herself so many times she lost count. She remembered the look on her dear father's face before she left home, telling not she was doing a great service to her people.

Laien found it hard to continue their journey many times. She'd been surviving on blood oranges and dried meats the entire journey, and knew that when she finally arrived in Winterfell that the food would be just as bad, if not even worse.

Dread had began to build in the young viper's veins. In the back of her mind, Laien was terrified. She'd never show it, of course, that was not the Dornish way but she allowed herself to feel it as they traveled through along their icy trail.

"Prince Lhars," one of the men that flanked her hollered through the nearly blinding snow. Her brother pulled on the reigns of his horse, his dark eyes moving past his little sister to land on the man who spoke. Lhars tilted his head, so the man continued."We are just outside the castle gates."

Lhars gave a nod and motioned for the crowd to continue ahead of them. Laien allowed the rest of the people to pass her so they could have a moment to speak.

"You are sure of your decision, Sister?" Lhars prodded gently. "You desire to live out the rest of your days smothered in snow and ice?"

Laien winced. "I would prefer be warmed by the sun in the Water Gardens, Lhars, you know this. Father will have allies in the North now - an ally with close ties to the Queen herself. I have not agreed to this decision blindly, dear brother. Dorne will reap the benefits of my marriage."

"It will be lonely at Sunspear without you." Lhars admitted.

Laien nodded, cursing the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. "As lonely, I imagine, as this barren ice field without you."

Lhars gave her a tiny smile, his hands tightening on the reigns he held. "If Lord Sno- Targaryen harms you I shall be the first to run a spear through his chest."

"Haven't you heard? The Starks who raised Lord Targaryen were among the most honorable people in Westeros. He shall not harm me, Brother. I will have slit his throat long before he raises a hand to me. I am my own protector."

"Yes, a viper true to her name, I suppose." Lhars chuckled. "Come sister, before the Lord and Lady think us dead."

* * *

It took two moons and a half for House Qorgyle to arrive at Winterfell's gates.

Sansa was awaiting their arrival, having been on edge since they'd written her back - the new ruler of Dorne had happily agreed and his two children were sent at once to join their houses. Jon still didn't know about their treaty, and Sansa just knew that he would threaten to have her head at first, but perhaps he could grow to love his new wife, just as mother grew to love her father.

The gates were opened and the crowd of Dornishmen rode in on their horses. Sansa didn't think she'd ever seen a horse look like the ones they rode - they were slimmer than most she'd seen, with long necks and narrow heads. Their colors ranged from the darkest of blacks to reds and one horse that was as pale as the snow it trampled on.

The woman atop said horse was a beautiful young thing, her thick, dark hair pulled into a single braid. Her fingers were gloved in a thick material, and the furs of the north rather out of place on the young woman.

A man who looked only a few years older than the girl on the pale horse rode before Sansa. He unmounted his horse with ease and stepped forward, his dark eyes meeting her own. "I am Prince Lhars, my Lady, son of Arron Qorgyle, the newly appointed ruler of Dorne."

"Prince Lhars," Sansa bowed her head politely. "Welcome to Winterfell. I hope your journey wasn't as unpleasant as we'd expected."

The dark haired man matched her bow, then stood to his full height and reach out his hand with a brilliant smile. Sansa obliged and blushed when he placed a small kiss to her knuckles.

"Fear not, my lady. We've arrived with everyone in tact." Lhars grinned. "There are three wagons of food and supplies outside your gates, just as we promised. When the marriage has taken place we will send them more frequently."

Sansa felt relief run through her and nearly cried right there into the snow. "Let us go inside the castle," she offered, her voice strained with emotion. "I will introduce you to Lord Targaryen."

Sansa watched as the Princess of Dorne's feet crunched down onto the snow as she dismounted her steed gracefully. Laien shivered and pulled her fur lined cloak tighter to her, desperate for the warmth it offered. Sansa nearly smiled as she remembered how cold it felt coming home for the first time, it was a great relief for her, but she could only imagine how bitter it felt for the Dornish woman.

Laien _was_ beautiful, Sansa marveled as she approached her, with her long dark hair and eyes to match, and although she looked out of place against the ice and snow, Sansa couldn't help but think that Jon would be pleased, at least by the look, of his intended.

"Lady Sansa, I present to you my sister, Princess Laien of Sunspear." Lhars introduced.

Sansa bowed her head, again. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Princess Laien."

Laien too bowed her head, taking in the red haired woman before her. "The pleasure is mine, my lady."

"Let us get inside," Sansa said once more, "lest we catch our deaths out here."

* * *

Jon sat in the conference area, just as Sansa bade him to do, waiting tirelessly on his cousin to enter.

He had only just returned from a hunt with a group of Wildlings, another desperate attempt to find food in the barren Northern woods, when she rushed to him. The hunt had only produced two deer, enough to feed one family for not even a week with the ravenous hunger that plagued his people.

The thought discouraged Jon. Maybe the madman was right, he thought begrudgingly, maybe they'd all die the horrible deaths they were so afraid of. Jon had spent many hours in the Godswood praying for relief and mercy for everyone.

What had Sansa said she needed him here for? She had been acting queer for the past few weeks, and Jon knew that she had been hiding something from him. He didn't know whether he wanted to be let in on her secret or not - with Littlefinger no longer around to try to bend her mind to his will Jon knew it couldn't be as bad as some of the things he'd suggested to her.

The doors to the room screeched open, surprising him greatly, and revealed his cousin walking toward him, a group of Dornishmen at her back.

Jon's eyebrows raised high onto his forehead, his lips parting in a wordless question.

"Jon," Sansa began, her voice strong. Jon didn't think he'd seen Sansa look more confident during the entirety of that long winter as she did in that moment. Her eyes were full of hope, and her moth twitched into a small smile. "I've invited House Qortyle to our home to discuss a barter. They've agreed to send food every moon from today until the long winter is over and our crops can grow again."

Jon stood quickly, his head spinning with the news. "On what terms?"

The young man in the front of the crowd bowed, his charming smile still plastered onto his face. "The joining of our houses, my lord."

"Who's agreed to the betrothal?" Jon asked quietly, his eyes boring into Sana's.

Sansa said nothing, but cast her eyes down onto the stone floor beneath them. Jon waited for her to answer, but her response never came.

"So you had no intention of marrying my sister, Lord Targaryen?" The black haired man asked, an eyebrow cocked at Jon. "We've ridden all this way for you to deny us what has already been agreed upon?"

Sansa grabbed his arm, her grip like a feather. "Jon, if you do not agree to this we will all die. We are, as the man said, living on borrowed time."

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, and a long sigh left his lips before he spoke again.

"I agree."


	3. Chapter 3

**Annnnnnnd chapter three is up, dolls! I hope you all enjoy :)**

 **Let me know what you think, and as always:**

 **Happy reading x**

* * *

"You agreed to the terms before Jon was even made aware of this arrangement," said Sansa as she sat with Laien, pulling apart a blood orange that had been on the wagons from Dorne. Sansa had taken the bride to be into her quarters to break their fast together, wanting to spend some time alone with her before the wedding. "You will grow to love one another. If you don't then there will come a time when you provide Jon with a son or daughter, and you will love them more than you detest being here. Far worse betrothals have been made."

"I'm not speaking of going back on our agreement," Laien bit back a scowl. "Why would someone come to love the person who's not only invaded their home, but their bed as well? Lord Targaryen will loathe me until I am returned to the dirt."

"There are very few men that would loathe a naked woman in their bed." Sansa shot back with a dry laugh. "For most men that is a dream turned true."

Laien rolled her eyes. "Yes, but from what I've been told, mostly by you, Jon isn't most men."

"He is a man, just as you are a woman." Laien watched as the young redhaired girl bit into the fruit, closing her eyes as she chewed, a moan of satisfaction muffled in her throat. "These are absolutely delicious."

Sansa's statement brought a minuscule smile to Laien's lips. For a moment she forgot of the dread that filled her, and was reminded of her childhood back in Dorne. "Blood oranges are my favorite. As a child I sat in the kitchens and watched as the women made them into jams and jellies."

Sansa offered Laien a wedge of the fruit. "I know you'll miss your home, Princess Laien, but I promise you Winterfell will make you a good home once the snow has passed. With your support and carts coming every moon things are sure to look up."

"It will be hard for your people to recover from this winter," Laien admitted. "Should you require anything more let me know and I will write my father with haste."

"Thank you," said Sansa.

"Of course." Laien gave a solitary nod. She picked at the skin beside her fingernail, and the question that weighed on her mind since she arrived spewed from her mouth without a though. "Is there anything I should know about your cousin?"

"Jon," Sansa paused as she thought, pulling another segment from the fruit and popping it into her mouth. "Jon's a good man. He's honorable. He would never allow harm to befall you. Once you marry you will be part of the Stark family, never mind his newly appointed name, he was raised a Stark and is true to our family's honor."

Laien sighed and plucked a piece of the hard bread from her plate. She wasn't hungry, but her stomach felt as if it were caving in on itself. She squeezed the bread between her forefinger and thumb, and all but threw it back onto her plate as her stomach began to clench. "Lady Sansa, you've been married before, yes?"

"I have," Sansa said. "Twice."

"Everyone knows that Dorne has a reputation of promiscuity. Every nobleman has his paramours, and even before marriage it is not uncommon to find a person sharing their bed with many others," Laien began softly, her rolling accent becoming thicker with every word, "but I have never..."

"It is painful, I will not lie to you." Sansa eyes dropped to the table momentarily. "However, it will not be the same for you as it was for me. As I said before, Jon will not harm you."

Laien clutched the cup of wine on the table before her, raising it to her nose and swirling it around the cup before taking the plunge and downing many large gulps. Her eyes were closed as she drank, having grown used to the spicy, sour taste of Dornish red long ago. She knew she wasn't acting like a proper princess - she'd only been one for such a short time - but at that very moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.

* * *

Jon and Laien were to have their ceremony in front of the Old Gods, Jon was very adamant about that. He wished the union performed in the eyes of his Gods. Since Jon himself was head of their house, and Bran had refused the offer, Samwell Tarly was to perform the ceremony. He knew the words now, since he and Gilly had wed a few years prior, and was honored to tears when Jon asked.

The night had brought only light flurries, and only accumulated a bit less than an inch more than what had blanketed the ground earlier that morning. It was eerily beautiful, Laien thought as she waited to have the final touches added to her hair and gown. The window was opened to acclimate her to the cold she was going to be in very soon, and the fire behind her did very little to offer warmth. Laien shivered, and she wasn't so sure it was from the cold this time. She had began to grow nervous.

This wasn't how Laien imagined her wedding day. She had always dreamed of being married on one of the balconies overlooking the Water Gardens, the bright Dornish sun warming her skin as she vowed her life away, not in the bitter, sunless, snowy Northlands. She hadn't thought to bring the gown she was to be married in, the same gown as her mother, and her mother before her, but Sansa had gotten to work a few days prior, sewing her fingers bloody to make her a dress in time.

Laien stared into the looking glass with a frown.

It was a beautiful dress, Laien thought as she admired Sansa's needlework. It was a cream-colored white that flowed to the floor in an almost wave, with small, pearl colored buttons to hold it together in the back. The sleeves were long and draped down almost as long as the dress itself. Sansa, for good measure, had added a light colored fur shawl for Laien to wear across her shoulders, knowing the chill of Winterfell still lingered, even as the winter thawed.

Laien's thick ebony hair had been left mostly down, the hair that fell around her face was pinned back in a braid at the crown of her head. She supposed it was because her hair offered a little more warmth.

"It's almost time, my lady," one of the Winterfell handmaidens gently reminded her. "Do you wish for anything?"

Laien shook her head. "Nothing else," she smiled, truly thankful for the woman's assistance. "Thank you."

The older woman bowed. "A pleasure, my lady."

Sansa stepped forward from the corner of the room, her blue eyes shining with something Laien couldn't place. "You look like something from a storybook, Laien."

Laien gave her a tight lipped smile. "All thanks to you, of course."

"Your brother is waiting outside these doors," Sansa said quietly. "He will escort you to the Godswood and give you to Jon. The ceremony is a simple one. Your brother has practiced his lines with Sam, so he knows what to say. The only words you must speak are 'I take this man'. Jon will guide you through the rest."

Laien closed her eyes, the feeling of dread coursed through her like a river. "Alright."

Sansa reach her hand out and grabbed Laien's own. "From tonight until your last night you will be my sister."

Laien's eyes watered, but she blinked them back and thanked Sansa with a smile.

* * *

Jon stood by Sam silently in front of the heart tree, his hands clutched behind his back.

"Are you nervous?" Sam asked him quietly. "You haven't really talked with her much, have you?"

Jon glanced at Sam through the corner of his eye. "I haven't, and no, I'm not nervous."

"D'you think she's nervous?"

Jon closed his eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to order Sam into silence. "It's likely."

"Do-"

Sam was cut off by Sansa's arrival at the Godswood, a small smile on her face as she took her place beside Jon, her hands folded delicately in front of her, a cloak bearing his sigil draped over her arms. Sansa nodded her head at the path clear of trees at the couple walking toward them arm in arm.

The Dornish man had his free hand over his sister's and was leaning to whisper into her ear. The woman on his arm looked radiant. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and for the first time he got a good look at her in the light of the lanterns that lit their path. Her large brown eyes were staring up at him, but she didn't share Sansa's smile.

Jon thought she looked like she would rather be facing the Night King herself.

Sam stepped forward a bit when the siblings stopped in front of them.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" He said, just as they'd rehearsed.

The man bowed his head slightly. "Laien, of the House Qorgyle, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Jon pushed back any thoughts of walking away from what was before him, not for him, but for the sake of the people of Winterfell. He swallowed thickly. "Me, Jon of the Houses Stark and Targaryen, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, the White Wolf, Defender of the Wall. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Me, Lhars of House Qorgyle, her brother." Lhars turned to Laien and raised his hand to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Princess Laien, will you take this man?"

Laien turned her head slightly to look at Jon, brown eyes meeting brown, and said the words Sansa provided. "I take this man."

Jon let out a breath and it steamed before him. He stepped forward and held out his hands, palm up. Laien moved from her brother's embrace and toward Jon to rest her hands on his.

Jon looked into her eyes and gave her a small nod before he bowed before the heart tree. Laien knelt beside him and closed her eyes, but Jon knew Laien didn't know the prayers to his Gods so he kept his prayers short. He then rose from the ground helped her from the snow, watching as she shivered. Jon reach for the cloak that Sansa held and draped it over Laien's shoulders. It was the end of the marriage ceremony.

"It is done," Jon heard Sansa whisper from beside him. "Come, we have no feast in your honor, but the cooks have made a special meal for the two of you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four!**

 **I can't write smut you guys! I tried and it's just sad, lol. So here is the aftermath of their wedding night and a few days that follow.**

 **I'm not sure how many more chapters are going to be in this story. It's really just a look into their lives after their marriage. It's kinda gonna be a series of one-shots from here on out maybe - I don't know! We'll see what happens, I guess. I have a few ideas on where this will go, so be sure to keep a look out!**

 **Anyway, let me know what you think, guys!**

* * *

Their wedding night had been handled delicately.

Jon stuttered apologies so often they'd began to feel like a prayer. When he finally pierced her Jon used the pads of his thumbs to wipe the tears from Laien's cheeks, only moving when Laien whispered her consent. He kept his pace slow and his eyes on hers, urging her to let him know if she was alright.

He was a true gentleman, just as Sansa promised.

It didn't take as long as Laien thought it would for Jon to finish, and no words were spoken as he pulled himself from her. Laien shivered and quickly pulled the furs around her to shield her naked form from the cold. Jon done the same after his breathing had leveled, and then there was silence.

Laien had closed her eyes to block out some of the shame she felt - she wondered how long it would take for her to become comfortable being nude around Jon. She also couldn't help but wonder if she'd pleased him.

When Laien opened her again she was met with Jon's sleeping form.

He was truly a very handsome man, Laien surmised as she looked him over. She had no qualms about the look of her new husband, he was smaller than some, but stout. She knew that when he held her to him in his blind pleasure earlier that night. She remembered the look in his eyes before the screwed shut - although brown eyes were prominent in Dorne she didn't think she'd ever seen a pair as dark as Jon's.

And his hair - Laien didn't think she'd ever seen hair so beautiful before! Laien silently wondered that when were to finally produce an heir whether it'd blessed with his dark curls or her thick, straight mane.

Jon turned toward her in his sleep, and for a moment she was mortified that she'd been caught leering at him. Laien snapped her eyes closed, hoping to feign sleep if he questioned her. She lay quietly for a time, carefully breathing through the lump in her throat. She listened to his breathing - it was peaceful and even. He was still asleep. Laien peeked through the eye closest to him and nearly cried when she saw she hadn't been caught.

The fur he was wrapped in fell down his chest a bit when he moved, just enough so that she could see a thick, angry scar that lay just over his heart.

"Gods," Laien whispered. Her hand eased toward him on it's own accord and before she knew it her fingers were hovering over his chest, itching to reach out to touch the deep gash, just to see the deep gash was real.

Jon let out a snore louder than the rest, and Laien took it as a sign - she was pushing her limits - so she tucked her hand beneath the coverlet with a sigh.

Laien had noticed, during the consummation, the scars that littered his face and wondered how he'd gotten each of them. Was there a noble story behind each cut or were they simply childhood injuries?

With the scars on his face coupled with the ones that littered his torso, Laien now knew that the man beside her had seen hard battles. She was curious to how many he'd seen.

What had almost killed Jon Targaryen?

Jon suddenly grunted and swung his arm heavily onto her stomach. Laien let out a puff of air, and tried to lay as still as she could so she wouldn't wake him - she didn't think she could let him take his pleasure again that night.

Once soft snores began to pass his parted lips again, Laien wondered how long she'd been watching him sleep in the light of the moon.

With time her eyes began to sag shut and she found herself relaxing beneath the warmth of his arm. Then, without another thought of her handsome, scarred husband, she let sleep claim her.

* * *

Three sharp, sudden knocks on the door caused Laien to startle. She gasped and her eyes popped open. Jon's arm was still around her, but now she lay face to face with them man. She was surprised to see that he was looking at her as she woke.

Jon growled in response to the noise at the door and wrapped a robe around him quickly, uttering an apology to his new wife.

Laien watched as he strolled to the door, the muscles in his back tensing a bit before he swung it open. She clutched the fur tighter against her chest and tried to peek around Jon to see who'd knocked.

"Can I help you?" Jon asked, his voice tight.

A maid bowed at the waist outside the door. "My apologizes, my lord. Lady Sansa asked that I bring you a change of linen and water for my lady's bath."

Jon turned his head toward Laien, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Of course. Give us a moment to ready ourselves."

"My lord," the maid bowed deeply.

Laien eased off the bed, the coverlet still pulled tight against her, and groaned at the pulsing throb between her legs. An involuntary hiss left her lips as she moved again, and she didn't dare look up.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked quietly.

Laien nodded and stared at the bed. The only remnant of her childhood stained their linen red. She knew the maid required the sheets to confirm she was no longer a maiden - it was ritual. "Yes, I'm fine. J-Just a bit sore."

"My lady, please," Jon urged with a cautious step forward, "if there is anything I can do for you do not hesitate to ask. I am your husband now. I will do right by you."

Laien gave him a tight lipped smile. "I know you will."

"I have a few things I have to attend to. When I am finished I will bring you breakfast." Jon offered. "The maid will be here shortly with your water."

Laien gave a short nod. "Thank you, my lord."

* * *

In the few days since their arrival Lhars hadn't gotten to know anyone in the castle save Jon's younger sister Arya. He'd connected with the girl instantly, it seemed, pleasantly surprised by her fighting skills.

Laien had watched the spar through the window of her room, and bit back a chuckle when Arya's thin, pointed blade found the side of her brother's neck.

"You brother is a formidable fighter," Jon's voice came from beside her.

Laien pressed her hand against her chest, startled by his sudden presence, but she nodded all the same. "Yes, but Arya is more so. Lhars is a very prideful man. He won't take a loss from a young girl easily."

Jon snorted. "None do."

Laien turned toward Jon, a small smile on her lips at the tray he held in his hands. "You really didn't have to, my lord."

The tray was covered in Dornish exports - blood oranges, pomegranates, olives and even a small piece of chicken. A goblet of Dornish Red sat on the side, begging her to take a sip.

"You would let me have you starve?" Jon jested lightly, with a nod toward their bed. "Your brother told me blood oranges were your favorite. We'll send for more once the shipments start coming regularly if you wish?"

Laien took the wine and sipped at it for a moment before offering it to Jon. "That would please me, my lord."

"Please, Jon is fine." He took a sip of the wine and winced. "This is more sour than I thought."

Laien chuckled. "It's the finest wine in the Seven Kingdoms."

"I'd rather have ale," Jon admitted.

It was Laien's turn to snort at him. "You Northerners."

"You are a Northerner now," Jon replied softly. "Our children will be Northerners."

Laien reach for the goblet again. "When is my brother to make his leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Jon said quietly. "You can go to him if you wish, spend your final day together before he leaves."

Laien blinked slowly and took a deep, shaky breath. "I think I will. Thank you Jon."

Jon gave a small nod and watched as she left the room.

* * *

Laien and Lhars' day went quickly, and it seemed like only hours before they were standing at the gates of Winterfell locked in a tight embrace.

"Come now, dear sister," Lhars chided with a bitter smile. "We will see each other again, do not worry."

Laien sobbed. "I will miss you, Lhars."

"And I you, Laien, but you are a wife now. You will become a mother before you know it and you'll have little wolves to chase around. They will fill my place in your heart, I am sure." Lhars said gently, his hand rubbing down her back.

Laien shook her head sadly. "No one will take your place, brother."

"I will write you as much as I can," Lhars promised with a kiss on her forehead. "Keep your Warden in line, Sister."

Laien nodded and stepped back into line with Jon and Sansa. She felt an arm on her shoulders and before she knew it she was being pulled into a tight hug. Through her tears she could tell it was Sansa by her hair of fire, so Laien wrapped her arms around the girl's waist and buried her head in Sana's shoulder - she didn't think she could watch her brother ride away from her.

The sound of hooves hitting the ice filled her ears and when she next looked up the only thing left were hoof prints in the snow. Tears leaked from Laien's eyes and threatened to freeze to her face.

"Come, Laien," Jon whispered as Sansa handed her off to him. He rubbed her back gently. "Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, guys, one-shots from here on out with this story. It's going to still be in order, but it's not going to detail everything that happens between each one. I hope you liked this chapter! It's pure fluff and it was so, so much fun to write. There's Laien/Jon, Laien/Sam and Laien/Sansa - I loved writing Sam's scenes - he's such a sweetheart.**

 ***Keira means dark haired, just a heads up!**

 **Anyway, enough rambling! On to the story, let me know what you think!**

* * *

Mid year, about six moons into their marriage, the letters from Dorne stopped arriving as frequently as they had been, and the spring thaw had began and the last remnants of Winter melted away with the sun's bright rays. Laien had grown used to her new home in the North, she still missed Dorne from time to time, and she knew that if it weren't for her new sisters and husband she'd have already lost her mind.

Laien quickly found fondness in her heart for her lord husband - he was a very passionate, kind, strong, honorable man, just as the rumors she'd heard before she arrived had promised. He was attentive man, going out of his way to give her the attention she needed to feel as comfortable as he could.

Late one night when Laien had grown sick for the third time in a row Jon had roused from his sleep and went out into the night's air to find Maester Sam himself. Sam came with a smile, as always, but with sleep still in his eyes. He checked her over under Jon's watchful eye.

"Well, my lady, from your symptoms it seems that you're not actually ill at all." Sam smiled happily, his full cheeks glowing puffing out even further.

Laien's brow raised high on her sweaty forehead - she'd retched all night and into the morning light, she knew something was wrong. "Well then, Maester Sam, tell me why I've emptied my stomach of anything I've eaten in the last five nights!"

Sam's smile grew wider and he turned his head to grin at his friend in the corner, looking as brooding as ever, before turning his eyes back to Laien. He was unfazed at her words, he'd grown used to the mood changes of women since his Gilly had only birthed his second son only weeks before. "When did you last bleed, my lady?"

Laien's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, but she had no time to respond.

Jon stepped carefully into the center of the room, his eyes boring into Sam's. "Are you certain?"

Sam nodded and Jon knelt beside the bed, not trusting his knees, like he had done so many times that night. Jon's his face as pale as snow, and Laien scarcely thought he might vomit as she had.

Jon nodded quickly, then looked up at his lady wife. His eyes were full of some kind of emotion Laien couldn't describe. "Laien? Your last moonblood?"

Laien shook her head, her mouth opening and closing without words. "I-I don't know...," she thought hard, her hand resting on her stomach - it seemed to help stop it from turning. She sat quietly for a moment before her large, brown eyes widened and she gasped. "Just after we were married! Gods! How could I not have noticed?"

Sam shook his head gently. "You were under a lot of stress, my lady. You were in a new place with new people..."

"Am I with child?" Laien asked, her voice so small she didn't know if either man could hear it.

Sam nodded softly. "It seems so, my lady."

Jon let out a shaky breath and Laien covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. Sobs left her lips as she breathed in. Jon excused Sam and raised himself onto the bed, his hand rubbing her back.

"Shh," Jon whispered. "S'alright."

Laien shook her head, her eyes still covered with her hands. Jon firmly grasped her wrists, careful not to hurt her, and pulled them away from her face.

He stared at her with a small smile. "Laien, you're bringing our child into the world."

"I don't know anything about children," Laien sobbed. "I'm the youngest child, I never had to care for younger siblings..."

Jon shushed her again, and buried his hand in her thick hair. He brought her forward with a small tug and pressed his lips to her forehead before speaking. "I helped with my siblings. And I've heard stories - it'll come natural to ya."

"What if I hurt it? I don't know how to hold a baby!" Laien whimpered. "I don't know how to calm a child from crying!"

"Gilly will let you hold Julien if only you ask." Jon said quietly. "She'll help prepare you for motherhood as best she can."

Laien nodded her head and sniffed. "Thank you."

"There's nothing to be thanked, Laien. You're my wife," Jon smiled and slid his hand down her neck, over her breast, and ended it's path on her lower abdomen. "And you are carrying my child. It is me who should be thanking you."

Jon watched as Laien smile briefly before her eyes widened and she covered her mouth for the hundredth time that night. "Fetch the bucket!"

* * *

Laien groaned as she was helped from her place in the throne room by Sansa, her sister smiling and placing her slender hand on the woman's ever growing stomach.

"Laien, if you grow much more you're bound to pop open!" Sansa laughed, her eyes full of wonder at the woman beside her. "How've you been feeling?"

Laien almost glared at the girl. "Like my ankles are cracking apart. Jon's had to place two extra chamber pots in our room because of how many times I must go nightly. I am bloated. I am hungry, but there's nothing I want to eat. I'm tired but I can't go to sleep..."

A thin, red brow raised on Sansa's forehead. "Fret not, sister. Maester Sam says only a few more weeks until the baby comes."

Laien's lips curled at the thought of her little baby. Unconsciously she moved her hand atop Sansa's own. "I can hardly wait to see it's little face."

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" Sansa asked quietly, her hand moving from Laien's stomach to her arm, helping her out of the room.

Laien's shoulders shrugged and she felt her mood darken. "For Jon's sake? A boy."

"Laien, you know Jon doesn't care about that." Sansa scolded lightly. She led Laien into the Great Hall. Sansa had called the servants to prepare Laien some buttered bread and blood orange jam. "He and you are going to love this child even if it were born a great, snarling direwolf."

The expectant mother nodded, a soft sigh leaving her. "I know Jon doesn't care. But the council - they will look down on the foreigner that can't even give their leader what's expected of him. I will be thought useless, a waste of a political marriage."

Sansa stopped in her tracks, her arm pulling Laien back a step. In her eyes was a blue fire. "You are not just a political alliance anymore, Laien. You are my sister. You are Lady of Winterfell. You are a part of the North now. If someone says anything of you or your child I will pluck their eyes from their sockets myself."

Laien nodded, touched by the girl's sweet, but slightly barbaric, words. "I know you would, sister, and I truly thank you for it, but you know how things like these come to pass."

"And they will pass, Laien. Just worry about the baby in your belly and let Jon and me handle the rest."

Sansa helped her sit, watching as Laien winced. Her hands shot to her stomach. "Oh!"

"Are you alright?" Sansa asked quickly. "Should I fetch Sam?"

Laien shook her head. "No, it's just - Oh! - the baby is moving around."

Sansa's eyes lit up. "May I feel?"

"Of course!" Laien took her hand and once again placed it on her stomach. Laien winced as, once again, the child seemed to stretch it's entire body inside her. Sansa smiled so wide Laien feared the girl's face might split in two. "Can you feel it?"

Sansa nodded. "Oh my! It's really moving, isn't it?"

"Is that blood orange jam?" Laien asked quickly, eyeing the tray in the servant's hands. "Oh, I do believe I've died and gone to the Heavens."

* * *

Misery.

It was the only word that defined how Laien felt as she lay in her bed, birthing her first born child. It felt like she was being ripped apart! Another scream passed through her lips and she gripped the hand that was by her head, ever thankful that her sweet sister had been by her side.

"Sansa, I can't do this! I can't!" Laien cried.

Sansa gripped her hand back, just as hard. "Laien, you must! This is your child, and to bring this child into the world you're going to have to push harder!"

Laien shook her head, her sweaty hair stuck to her forehead. Her voice was so raw it had began to sound like someone else. "I don't think I can."

"You can." Sansa said finally. "Jon is outside that door waiting for his child. Give him his child, Laien."

Laien nodded, tears streaming down her face. She clenched her teeth together and pushed with all her might. She felt the burning of a thousand fires, and gave one final scream as her child entered the world.

The child bawled and screamed, and Laien didn't think she'd ever heard such a beautiful sound. Sam wrapped it in a cloth and wiped it's face and cleaned it's little eyes, then handed it to Laien for her to see.

"It's a girl," Sam said happily. "Congratulations, my lady."

Laien sobbed and held the little girl to her chest. Sansa ran to the door and swung it open, announcing happily that she was the aunt to a beautiful little girl.

Jon pushed past the crowd and ran to Laien's side, his hand shooting out to touch her face. "Are you well?"

Laien laughed, the tears still pouring from her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'm perfect."

He placed a tender kiss to her head before turning his eyes down to the babe against her chest. "She's as gorgeous as you, my love."

Laien's heart stuttered for the second time that day, and for the first time since she'd come to Winterfell she truly felt loved. Jon had never called her anything but her name, and the affection in his tone brought a new wave of tears to her eyes. "She favors you."

Jon met her eyes and she saw that his, too, were glistening happily. A single tear left his eye and dropped onto their child nestled between their chests. The babe opened her eyes and looked up at her parents. Her little mouth twitched and Laien could have sworn that her baby girl smiled at them.

"She's so tiny," Laien whispered, staring in awe at the bundle. "So beautiful."

Jon nodded and leaned down to kiss the baby's tuft of black hair. "What will we call her?"

Laien smiled down at the baby in her arms. "What about Keira?"

"Keira," Jon repeated with a smile. "It's a good name."

Laien leaned up and kissed Jon, her heart full to bursting, and in that moment, she finally felt like she belonged.


End file.
